


Make Me Happy

by probablyanauthor



Category: Friday the 13th Series (Movies), Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bullying, Child Abuse, Homophobia, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, M/M, Myerhees - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Slurs, get ready buckos im gay and i love angst, its not explicit, religious jason
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-09-21 18:35:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17048453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/probablyanauthor/pseuds/probablyanauthor
Summary: Love blossoms in the small town of Fieldsboro, New Jersey between an odd teen who wears a bag on his head and an angel-faced boy with a history of violence.





	1. Chapter 1

_Wednesday._

 

Michael descended the stairs with quiet footsteps, pausing about two thirds the way down and pressing his ear to the wall. He heard muffled snoring and let out a sigh of relief. He rushed the rest of the way down, speed walking to the kitchen to grab a week-old banana and some stale bread. He pressed the mushy and rapidly browning fruit onto the bread, smearing it on like a paste, before shoving it into his mouth.

 

His sister, Judith, gagged from the doorway, giving him a hard stare. Michael shrugged and pushed past her into the hallway, making his way to the door and slinging his backpack onto his shoulder.

 

He resumed his speed walk as he made his daily three-block walk to school, cursing under his breath as he sees the familiar forms of his friendly neighborhood bullies on the horizon. Waiting for him at the double doors of the school, like always.

 

Their pimple-ridden faces turned to him, twisting into a trio of malicious grimaces as they yelled in his direction. “Oh would’ya look at that? The freak show is back in town!”

 

Michael attempted to walk past but was stopped by a hand on his chest. He sighed and held back an eye roll, turning to them expectantly.

 

“Woah woah! Watch the attitude Mikey, we’re just playing around.” One of he boys said, his face twisted in a grin revealing yellowed crooked teeth. “Say, gonna give me your sister’s number today? Wanna have my turn before the dumb bitch gets herself pregnant y’know?”

 

Michael roughly shoved the boy’s hand away, moving to roll up his sleeves for what will absolutely be another one of his famous 3 on 1 fights. He’s lost every time, but hey. 30th times the charm, right? If they’re gonna talk shit about his family every chance they get, he might as well get some good hits in. Momma Myers didn’t raise a quitter, after all.

 

“Ooh Mikey’s getting mad, huh?” One sneered.

 

The obnoxious little one piped up, a new face. “Probably hits like a girl anyways. Sure looks like one.” He chuckled, even as one of the older members cringed. Oh yes, he’s very familiar with Michael’s left hook. “Gonna be a stripper just like your momma mickey?”

 

Michael tilted his head at him, a smirk playing at his lips. “Sure. And I bet I can depend on you to be my first customer.”

 

As expected, his little comment riled him up good and the runt came rushing at him with a red face and a clumsy fist. He caught it easily, calming raising his own balled hand and bringing it down onto the bully’s cheek with bone-shattering force. And just like that, he was out like a light.

His friends jumped in quickly, double-teaming Michael with quick, punishing hits. Michael struggled to find the right moment between the painful blows to deal another hit to one of them, but his opening did come. The snaggle-toothed boy who stood at eye level with him paused and shook out his hand with a hiss of pain. In an instant Michael was shoving the other boy off and advancing towards him, winding back his arm in what would surely be another one-hit KO.

 

Michael’s face spread into a dimpled grin as he waited for the satisfying snap of his fist hitting the pimpled face, but to his immense disappointment it never came. Confused, he looked up to find that a large hand had caught his arm. Preparing himself for the stern face of a teacher, he was surprised to find that it was a fellow student. A rather recognisable one at that.

 

Jason Voorhees, the weird religious kid who wore a bag over his head. Well, kid isn’t entirely accurate. The guy was huge, towered at least a foot above Michael’s head. And Michael isn’t a short guy.

 

“Principal's office.” Came the muffled, gruff voice. When no response came and the bullies tried to sneak away, Jason stormed forward, dragging michael along. He grabbed them by the back of their shirts and roughly pushed them in the direction of the large double-doors of the school, where a disappointed teacher stood waiting to escort them.

 

“Thank you, Jason. Go ahead to class now I can handle the rest.”

 

Jason nodded and did as he was told.

 

She turned back towards the delinquent students and gestured towards the passed out kid on the floor. “Please grab your friend and follow me.”

 

\------

 

The principal's office was not an unfamiliar sight for Michael. He’s probably been sent there at least twice a week for the past three years. It's the same story every time. Michael gets two hours in detention for starting a fight and not being in dress code, and his idiot classmates get a light slap on the wrist and a warning, because god forbid the members of Cunningham’s small untalented field hockey team miss practice.

 

It's not like he cared all that much about his afterschool time, being here was better than being at home anyways.

 

After getting his weekly berating and his detention ticket, he headed to his first class of the day thirty-one minutes late. With Fieldsboro’s town population being little more than five hundred people, there were only about twenty kids in each grade and gossip spread fast. You’d think talking about the same four kids getting into fights every week would get boring, but apparently not. He was greeted with hushed whispers and amused looks. Michael looked around the room, quickly finding the massive student in the front row who ratted him out. Jason glanced in his direction and scoffed at him for being tardy despite having been the cause of his tardiness. Pretentious bastard.

 

Michael made his way to his seat, unfortunately two rows directly behind the tallest and broadest student in class. He pulled out his notebook and glowered at the back of Jason’s head for a bit, thinking back on what he knew about the kid.

 

Jason was the typical church-loving backwoods momma’s boy for the most part. Built like a brick house with muscles that bulge through the loose cloth of his dress shirt like something out of Michael’s mom’s porn mags. Doesn’t sound much like a church boy to the rest of the world maybe, but he's cream of the crop here. Those bible thumpers always go on and on about jesus and loving their mommas, before heading straight for an after hours bar and getting themselves a quick ticket to the holding cell at the police office. Seems flexing their muscles and machismo was more important to these schmucks than “practicing what you preach”. Elias Voorhees was like that, Michael’s father was like that, virtually every man over twenty here was like that.

 

But Jason Voorhees? That boy wasn’t like them. Ripped and jesus-loving? Sure. Starting fights in bouts of insecurity and ignorance? Oh no, not Pamela’s sweet baby boy. Jason Voorhees was about one step away from being a pastor, always preaching about loving thy neighbor and turning your cheek to your enemy. Sure, he fought sometimes; the boy had the temper of his infamous deadbeat father. But his fights were often in defense of someone who was being picked on so it can be passed off as his brand of ‘righteous retribution’. Most of the time though, Jason was like a stuffy giant of a church boy, brown-nosing adults and micro-managing his fellow teens least they run off and get each other pregnant or drugged up.

 

Jason was a model student, a model christian, and a model son. Even now as michael watched him in class he was intensely focused on the teacher’s every word and taking down notes with the fervor of a man on death row writing his last goodbyes. Often he would pause and scratch out a word several times, shoulders stiffening in panic as the teacher moved on unaware of his struggles. Michael had to hold back a chuckle every time.

 

Okay, so maybe Jason Voorhees isn’t a bright kid. But he tries too damn hard to not be a good student, you gotta give him credit for that at least. Poor kid lugs every book he owns to class every day and takes his teachers’ lessons like the word of god.

 

His dedication would be an endearing personality trait if it didn't make him such a hard-ass about the rules.

 

\------

 

When PE came around michael suddenly became very aware of the beating he got this morning. His forearms and chest still ached, but luckily upon lifting his shirt michael found only minimal bruising. A purple welt here and there, but nothing that would cause him any trouble. He grabbed his mandatory PE garb and dressed quickly, eyes seeking out Jason out of instinct. He bit back a grin at the way the large student struggled to maneuver his shirt over the bag on his head.

 

Michael doesn’t know why Jason even bothers changing out of his uniform when he never gets to play. Something about health issues and his mother throwing a fit. It’s a shame, he knows the coaches would eat Jason up. The boy is probably a powerhouse.

 

Once everyone was dressed and out on the field, the coach screeched something about getting into position for a good old fashioned field hockey game. Seniors at Cunningham High School were lucky enough to have gotten Coach Brahms, the coach of the field hockey team, as their PE teacher, so they never got to play anything other than field hockey.

 

Several disappointed sighs resound as the students moved around the field, and then the whistle is blown and chaos ensues. Several of Coach Brahms’ most enthusiastic and violent players quickly moved to shove at their teammates and swing their hockey sticks wildly for the ball. One of said students happened to be the snaggle-toothed kid Michael almost punched this morning and oh, was he out for blood. He didn’t even bother to pretend like Michael was after the ball, he just swatted it in his direction and went in for the tackle.

 

Michael hit the dirt hard, a large bruise already burning its way onto his chest where his classmate shouldered him full force. He must have flown at least a three feet backwards. Michael grunted as he was helped up and handed off to a pair of gentle hands. He turned to glare dazedly at the snaggle-toothed piece of shit before facing the owner of the steadying hands on his shoulders. Of course it's Jason Voorhees. Him and his stupid bag-head and his baby blue eye full of worry.

 

Somewhere far off Michael hears the coach screech and the sounds of field hockey start up once more, but right now he was focused on steadying himself enough to shove Jason away. As he was now he would absolutely fall flat on his ass if those hands weren’t holding him up.

 

“You alright?” Came the deep muffled voice that had no right sounding as caring as it did.

 

“M’fine.” Michael grunted, nudging Jason in the direction of the nurses office. “Let’s go.”

 

Jason seemed mildly upset about leaving the game, looking hesitantly out at the field before determination set in and he wrapped an arm around Michael. The walked in an awkward silence down the hallway, Michael feeling mildly embarrassed by their closeness but not caring enough to move away. Jason was the kind of guy who liked to be helpful, so he might as well humor him.

 

“So.” Michael started. “Do you like hockey?”

 

“Yes.” Came Jason’s response, so immediate and carrying such genuinity that Michael was caught off guard.

 

“Then why don’t you play?”

 

“Ma says I can’t, says if I do I’ll get injured and it’ll make my h-hypro--hydrocef…” His brow furrowed. “...My condition worse.”

 

“Oh. Well…” Michael searched for something to say. “I-I hope you’ll get to play someday.”

 

Jason’s eye brightened, and he appeared to be smiling under his bag. “Me too.”

 

Once they reached the nurse’s office the nurse almost had to force Jason to leave, but with several reassurances that Michael wouldn’t die he was convinced to go. Michael found himself captivated by the oddly innocent nature of the giant student, and his interest in discovering what sort of face he was hiding grew exponentially. Michael always was a curious child, and once that side of him was awakened nothing could stop him from getting what he wants

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

_ Thursday.  _

 

Michael was lucky enough to have avoided his asshole classmates this morning, walked an extra block to sneak past them and went through the back entrance of the school rather than the front. No doubt that little runt woke up extra pissed and called in some backup punks this time. Well Michael wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

 

Now he was sat safely in class, under the watchful eye of the teacher and the school’s overzealous guard dog, Jason. He could feel the eyes of his bullies boring into the back of his skull, but they can’t get him til at least the end of class. Speaking of, he should probably think of a plan to avoid getting beat the second the bell rings. Maybe shadow the Voorhees kid, he doubted they’d try anything with him around.

 

Michael’s attention was drawn to the behemoth of a student once more, taking in the broad back and the clean white twine of his bag head. He’s gotta be hiding some sort of disfigurement, right? Why else would be wear that thing every second of the day. Michael sees him heading into the woods sometimes, with a bow and arrow and some seemingly homemade spears. Maybe his face got fucked up by some animal while he was out hunting? 

 

His face twisted into a grimace as he thought of the other possibility. It’s no secret that Jason’s father, Elias Voorhees, was an absolute bastard. He was sent to prison before Michael even moved to Fieldsboro, supposedly on aggravated assault of another drunkard at the bar, but the town gossip told another story. Apparently he used to beat the shit out of Jason every night when he came home drunk from another day spent warming a barstool. The poor kid’s cries could be heard all the way down the block. Pamela would intervene, of course, and that would earn her a fresh new blackeye that she would hide under a pair of shades.

 

Rumors say that one day Pamela had enough and went berserker on him, beat him half to death with the butt of her shotgun before forcing him out into the backyard for a old-west style execution. Her neighbors caught her and stopped the gun from going off, and Elias was detained by the police and sent to jail with a quick and easy trial. Poor Pamela would probably be locked up too on account of attempted murder, but luckily everyone in this town knew the abusive asshole deserved it and she was let go scot-free. They covered her brutal beatdown up to avoid any chances of some new cop trying to bring the case back up. 

 

Pretty badass for a little old lady who looks like she lives and breathes the granny aesthetic. In any case, the disfigurement Jason’s hiding could very well be the effects of his father abusing him. 

 

Michael’s daydreaming was cut short by the clearing of a throat. The world unblurred to reveal twenty-one pairs of eyes staring at him, including the questioning eye of Jason, who he had been staring blindly at for the past couple of minutes. The teacher cleared her throat once more.

 

“I asked you a question, Michael.” She looked at him expectantly.

 

Michael cringed, “Oh.. C-can you repeat it?” A few amused snorts came from the back of the class. Jason, confused and embarrassed by the attention Michael had been giving him, turned back around sheepishly, twiddling his thumbs.

 

\------

 

After the bell rung, Michael’s plan to shadow Jason came into fruition. He tailed the large boy, glancing behind every once in a while to see that the punks were still trailing him with malicious intent, but at a far enough distance for him to be safe. 

 

Jason of course noticed Michael following him, and kept looking at him out of the corner of his eye nervously. To be fair, they are all going to the same class so it shouldn’t be as suspicious as it is, but he supposes that after he spent a great deal of class staring at Jason’s back the man has a right to be wary.

 

The next class of the day was PE, so he still has to survive through the unsupervised boys locker room, but so long as he can make it to the field he should be alright for another hour. He can use his injury from yesterday as an excuse to stay on the sidelines. Luckily his big makeshift bodyguard will be there with him.

 

The smell of body odor wafted through the air as he neared the moldy locker room, and a wave of relief washed over him. Only a few more steps and a quick clothes change later and he’d be in the clear. 

 

Jason, who had wandered a few feet ahead of him, disappeared behind the doorway, and a quick ‘oh shit’ tumbled from Michael’s lips as he sensed the presence of his zit-faced bullies behind him. He attempted a last-second sprint for the door but was cut short by two pairs of hands around his torso and a hand over his mouth. He was dragged into the men’s restroom across the hall and roughly shoved to the floor. 

 

“Though’ya could get out of this if you stuck with your boyfriend, huh?” The small kid from before teased, confident thanks to the presence of his three large friends behind him. Unfamiliar faces, likely from the lower grades. He turned and nudged at one of them, “Should have seen the way he was looking at that big bastard in class, looked like he was gonna jump his dick right then and there.”

 

“Fuckin’ fag.” One of the big students snorted. 

 

Michael’s faced burned with anger, but he pushed it down and stood tall. He’s not ashamed of that part of himself, and he knows he doesn’t like Jason like that. Their half-assed insults mean nothing to him and it is going to stay that way. “Just get it over with.” He spat, lifting his fists. “Weak bitch like you, had to invite your friends so I wouldn’t knock your ass out again.”

 

The little runt surged recklessly forward just like before, and was dodged easily. Michael knelt down and punched him hard in the stomach, and he doubled over with a core-shaking gag. Next Michael kneed him in the balls, and the little bastard was out for the count, huddled over on the floor cradling his lower torso. One of his traitorous friends let out an impressed little laugh, only for the kid to screech, “Don’t just f-fucking stand there! Assholes!”

 

They rolled their eyes at him but advanced on Michael. Two of them grabbed at him from behind, holding back his arms as the third one prepared to wail on him with a sadistic grin, his arm winding back for what would surely be a devastating punch to the gut.

 

Suddenly, the grin turned to alarm, as he was shoved roughly to the side, slamming against the door of a stall. Jason stood tall in his place, glaring at the remaining delinquents. The two boys holding Michael looked up at the huge bag-headed student anxiously, but like the over-confident idiots they were, they held their ground. 

 

They shook Michael, and one inclined their chin at Jason. “Look Mikey! Your boyfriend came to save the day!”

 

Jason looked taken aback and moved a step away in confusion, much to the punks’ amusement.

 

“Oh c’mon, Jay! Don’t be embarrassed! Give your fuck-toy a kiss!” They mocked, and Michael was suddenly shoved forward onto the larger man’s chest. 

 

Jason, the well-meaning but naive boy that he is, hugged Michael close to him in a protective gesture and the boys shrieked with laughter. If the man in his arms wasn’t embarrassed before, he sure as hell was now. He could feel the rapid rhythm of Jason’s heartbeat and the warmth of his chest, made warmer likely due to anger.

 

The kid who was shoved against the stall recovered and joined his two friends, adding fuel to the fire. “Momma’s perfect little angel was a queer all along, huh? Bet you like pretty little things like Michael, bet it makes you feel like a big man to rough em up a bit.”

 

A tremor passed through Jason, his hand on Michael’s back shaking. He could feel his breathing speed up.

 

“No wonder you try so hard to be good.” One sneered. “Gotta suck up to god ‘cause you know your dirty homo ass ain’t getting into heaven. No wonder your daddy beat you.”

 

That seemed to be the last straw for Jason, and in a blur Michael was released from the warm embrace and a sickening crunch filled the air. Michael turned around with bated breath, and saw the bullies’ faces, white with fear. Jason was standing over one of them, his shoulders shaking and his chest heaving. Before him lay the crumpled form of the kid who threw the last insult, out cold with red splattered over his face and blood spilling from his broken nose. His neck was at a frightening angle.

 

“J-jesus…” One croaked out, slowly kneeling to poke at his friend’s bloody face. Jason took a step forward and they both flinched, shrinking back against each other. Roughly jason grabbed the shirt of the passed out kid, shoving him into the shaking arms of the bullies. He inclined his head at the horrified face of the little runt cowering on the floor, and they rushed to pick him up too. 

 

Jason stepped to the side in a clear instruction for them to leave, stating in a deep frightening monotone, “Tell no one.”

 

They couldn’t get out fast enough, nodding rapidly with teary eyes. The door clicked shut and silence filled the room. When Jason turned to look at him Michael let out a weak laugh.

 

“Y’know, I’m into tough guys.” He remarked. Jason wasn’t amused, and fixed him with a blank stare. “T-thanks, I really appreciate it.”

 

Jason’s eye brightened a little and he nodded in contentment, moving to the door and holding it open expectantly. Michael perked up and rushed to walk out, Jason following closely behind with a watchful eye trained on the retreating forms of the delinquents. 

 

They walked out onto the field in the middle of a game, and Coach Brahms ran over to ask about the other missing students. Jason only shrugged, stating that he had looked but could not find them. Much to Michael’s surprise, the coach immediately believed him. Perks of being a perfect student without a track record of violence and skipping, he supposed. 

 

Michael and Jason sat together on the sidelines, watching the game play on in silence. Jason appeared overjoyed to have someone sit with him for once, and had patted the spot beside him with such enthusiasm Michael had to hold back a grin. 

 

The large boy had proven to be an extremely valuable ally to have, those punks surely won’t be messing with him again for at least another week or two. Jason caught Michael staring at him, with a soft smile playing at his features. His pale blue eye widened in panic and he quickly turned away, the tiny sliver of visible cheek beneath his mask flushed pink.

 

\------

 

Jason opened the door to his childhood home and was immediately enveloped in a comfortable warmth and the smell of apple cider. A small fire crackled in the fireplace and he could hear the sound of his mother humming in the kitchen. He placed his keys on the doily that rested on the strong cherry wood table by the door, making his way around the worn but sturdy furniture of the living room and into the kitchen. He tried his hardest to smile at the large statue of virgin mary tucked in the nook between the two rooms, but he’s sure it came across as more of a grimace. Lord forgive him, but she scares the living daylights out of him. Those cold, unfeeling painted eyes haunt his nightmares.

 

His mother turned around and flashed a bright smile at him, wiping her hands on her apron and making her way over for a hug. “Jason! How was school, my sweet boy.” 

 

Jason awkwardly patted her back, sheepishly muttering. “I got into a fight today momma, I’m sorry.” Alarmed, she pulled away and scanned him for bruises with concern.

 

“I’m okay, ma.” He grumbled, frustrated that she wasn’t upset with him. “Just feel kinda bad, is all.”

 

“Were they good boys?” She asks.

 

“Of course not! They were awful, awful...” Jason replied, distressed at the memory of what they said to him.

 

His mother smiled, clearly pleased. “Then you’ve done a good thing, Jason!” She kissed the cheek of his mask and turned back to continue her work. “I’m sorry Jason, but mommy has to finish making her pies for the bake sale on saturday. Come to the dining room in about an hour for dinner, and you can tell me all about your day.”

 

He held in a frustrated sigh and did as he was told, marching up the stairs to his room. The door opened with a bit of difficulty, his hunting supplies strewn haphazardly around and partially blocking the doorway. He quickly gathered them up, tossing the loose arrows and spears under the bed where they wouldn’t poke his feet and gently placing his bow on top of his dresser with his archery trophies.

 

Jason carefully picked his stuffed bear, Muffin, off of the floor and placed her on his bed. He then knelt beside his rickety old comforter and bowed his head in prayer. He thanked god for keeping him safe today, and apologized for reacting in anger at the boys’ taunts. A beat or two passes, and he asks that he keep Michael safe too. 

 

“Amen.” 

 

Satisfied, Jason rose and flopped down on his bed, the frame creaking in protest. He thinks of Michael, and how he shares his name and his face with the archangel michael but behaves like the lowest of degenerates. He thinks of how beautiful he is, with his smooth pale skin like sculpted marble and his eyes of the darkest black he’d ever seen. He’s both frightening and captivating.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for implied CSA in the first scene, also negative/cruel language used to describe a deformity later on. I'd like to take this moment to say that the views of these characters do not reflect my own.

_Friday._

 

After lying in bed for half an hour desperately trying to fall back into the pitch black nothingness of sleep, Michael relented and dragged himself out of bed early. The clock read 7:12 am, and class started at 8:00. Oh joy. Maybe he should try to risk making breakfast, something that tasted good for once.

 

He snorted. As if. The only food in the house has either molded over or become stale. He can’t even remember the last time he went grocery shopping with family. Nowadays food just kind of shows up randomly, from some magical disembodied force that is most definitely his mother. Not like he’d complain, she’s somehow remembered all his favorite foods even after all these years of essentially becoming MIA. Poor soldier knows her life would be better as a deserter but loves her horrible, horrible children too much to abandon her post. That doesn’t really work as an analogy, does it? Michael is very hungry.

 

He begins his morning routine. Clothes, teeth, hair, and then six quiet steps to the stairs. Descend four, and then listen. Silence.

 

Michael’s blood runs cold. Normally this is the part where he hears snoring. Oh, Jesus fuck. The piece of shit actually woke up before noon. He decided to cut his losses and grab his shoes and run out the door. Fuck his backpack, fuck breakfast. He’d much rather risk having to hide out at school for the remaining thirty minutes before class than be here. His speedy descent down the rest of the stairs was cut short by a startled feminine gasp. He freezes. Mom.

 

“Michael! Thank goodness you’re awake.” His mother cries out. Michael cringes and turns to her, like a deer caught in headlights. She stood in all her beauty in the kitchen, her hands occupied by a plastic spatula and an empty frying pan. Her golden hair shines in the early morning light like a halo around her head. Why does she always have to come home at the worst times?

 

“Mom, y-you’re here.” Michael tried his best to smile for her, he really did. It was even harder to hold up his facade when he tilted his head to confirm his suspicion that his piece of shit father was indeed sat at the table, along with his older sister. He held his breath and walked to his mother, planting a kiss on her cheek.

 

Her eyes gleamed with so many unnamed emotions, so bright and beautiful in their chocolate brown hew that they almost drown out out the sagging bags of exhaustion and stress lines decorating her features. His chest tightens. He forces out a weak smile and sits beside his sister.

 

Their father is sat across the table from them in all his sleazy, greasy glory. His face is set in that same infuriating smug look he always has, his eyes wet and red and looking at his sister in a way that makes Michael want to rip them out of his skull. His stomach twists. He feels like vomiting.

 

“I figured it’s been a while since I spent a morning with the three of you.” Michael’s mother, well meaning like always, cut cheerily through the tense atmosphere. Does she know what her husband does? Does she ignore it, pretend it doesn’t happen? Hatred blazes in Michael’s chest, in his mind. Burns away the love and understanding in an instant. He feels sick.

 

Michael snuck a glance at Judith, sitting as tense as he was. He knows she must be feeling something similar to him, feels some vague distant comfort in it. Feels bad that she’d been sitting there longer than him.

 

“--Michael, I’ve been getting calls from the school.” Suddenly he heard his mother’s voice again. How long had she been talking? “I wish you wouldn’t fight so much.”

 

“It’s just ‘cus they pick fights with me first.”

 

She sighed, more sympathetic than disappointed. “That’s not an excuse, you have to be the bigger pers--”

 

“You know they mock me for having a stripper for a mother.” He cut her off. It came out harsher than he intended, accusatory. Of what? Providing for her family? Michael hated himself, wished he could just shut up forever. His stomach clenched tighter.

 

His mother’s eyes widened in betrayal and a deep sadness. Beside him, Judith choked on her spit and hit him in the side, hard. The sleazy human embodiment of a sack of steaming shit sitting across from her had the gall to laugh.

 

“Mom, I’m so sorry. I love you, so much.” He desperately spoke. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just don’t like them talking bad about you. So I beat them up.”

 

His mother’s face cleared, brightened a fraction. She put on her best ‘mom’ voice, her face stern but understanding. “Those are my battles to fight.” A hand cupped Michael’s cheek. “I don’t want you to suffer for my mistakes. Please, just take a deep breath and keep walking. They’ll tire themselves out eventually.”

 

They won’t.

 

“Okay mom.” Michael hoped his grin was convincing. It wasn’t, but his mother wouldn’t have brought it up anyways.

 

A steaming plate of eggs was put in front of him. He wasn’t hungry anymore, the sight of it made him want to puke. He pushed down his red-hot anger and sadness and disgust enough to force down three forkfuls of food, using every ounce of energy in him to keep it down.

 

It’s 7:47. Thank fucking god. He pushed the seat away from the table, got up. He looked at his sister.

 

“Want to walk to school with me?” He asked, already knowing the answer. “It’s in the direction of your work, you can make sure i don’t punch anyone.” His mother let out a laugh at that.

 

“Of course, Mikey. Big sis’ll look after you.” Judith teased, she could hide discomfort so much better than he could. Distantly he was jealous, though he knew he shouldn’t be.

 

They worked efficiently as a unit. They cleaned up, hugged their mother in tandem and then they were out the door. They could feel twin holes burning into their backs, a presence that made their skin crawl, and then they were halfway down the block and it became a dull ache.

 

It took awhile for the tension to leave Michael and Judith’s bodies. Once Michael felt his throat begin to work again he forced his brain to form sentences through his blaring headache, fit his dry lips around some words. Anything to break the silence.

 

“I don’t know why you stay, Judith.” He muttered.

 

She sighed as if he’d just spurted out gibberish, like she was correcting a drooling child. “I would never leave you alone in that house.”

 

“I can handle myself.” Michael huffed.

 

Judith let out a breath of air, a half-laugh. Called him out on his bullshit. “I know I was never a good sister to you before, and i feel like you and i both understand why it was hard for me. But I want to be here for you now.”

 

“But--”

 

“You don’t get a say.” She cut him off. “I’m not leaving til you do.”

 

Michael knew he couldn’t change her mind, but geared himself up to anyways. His shoulders squared and he took in a deep breath of air. His sister only rolled her eyes.

 

“Don’t start, Michael. We’re here.” Judith ruffled his curly brown locks and shoved him towards the school playfully. “Try not to beat anyone’s ass today.”

 

“I won’t.” He drawled, rubbing at his head. “Bye sis.”

 

His mood wasn’t much better, but he appreciated his sister’s attempt to leave things on a positive note. The fact that the bullies from yesterday were nowhere in sight helped as well. Michael heard some fuckboys catcall his sister in the distance, but took a deep breath and kept walking. He made a promise, and he intended to keep it for at least a day.

 

\------

 

The first class of the day was uneventful. Without the hum of gossip following a fight Michael went unnoticed. For the most part. He smiled at Jason when the boy turned around to look at him, and to his immense amusement Jason flinched as if he’d been burned and whipped his head around to look away. His shoulders were stiff as concrete for the remaining minutes of class.

 

P.E. came around in a blur. The coach spent a good fifteen minutes of class screaming about a lower year student who played goalie being out with a concussion, and how he knows one of the ‘delinquent hooligans’ in his class had to have purposely taken out his ‘valuable team asset’ because they hate him and want to make his life hell. Cue a pointed look in Michael’s direction. That’s fair. He did have some part in injuring the kid.

 

“--We are short several students! With only eight of yall on one team and 9 on the other the game will jus--”

 

“Coach Brahms! Why can’t Jason play?” An impatient student yelled, clearly tired of standing around in the cold october air listening to him shriek. A few equally frustrated agreements peppered the crowd.

 

“You know I can't let Jason play, his mother would lose it! The boys not fit to play, she made that very clear.” He shouted.

 

A student scoffed. “Have him replace the goalie then, the dude doesn’t even have to run.”

 

“Yeah my fuckin’ grandpa could goalie, and he can’t even shit by himself.” Another kid added helpfully.

 

“Now I don’t want to hear it--” The coach started, but was cut off by Jason hesitantly tapping his shoulder.

 

“I wouldn’t mind playing, sir. I can handle being goalie, I’m sure.”

 

Coach Brahms didn’t seem convinced, and squinted his eyes skeptically at the tall student.

 

“I won’t tell my ma, promise.” Jason’s eye shone with hope.

The coach stared at him for a while longer, keeping that same skeptical look until he couldn’t keep a straight face anymore. He broke out in a grin and chuckled at Jason’s barely concealed excitement. The boy was shifting from foot to foot, like a giant puppy. “Alright, alright. But if your momma finds out you gotta take the fall for it, understand?”

 

Jason’s body language changed from overjoyed to a goofy-looking serious in a second. “I understand, sir. I will take full responsibility.”

 

Brahms let out a hearty chuckle, clearly appreciating getting some respect for once. “That’s enough, ya big lug. Someone volunteer to bring Jason here to the equipment room and get him padded up. If any of you little monsters purposely aim for his face or groin area you’ll be seeing me in detention for the next five weeks.”

 

Michael snapped his hand up embarrassingly quickly, which got him a few raised brows but Jason seemed happy that he wanted to spend more time with him. He jogged over to Michael, either ignoring or not noticing the snickers of his classmates.

 

“You’re finally gonna get to play.” He pointed out as they began their walk over.

 

“I know!” Jason replied excitedly, his deep rumble of a voice just a bit too loud. He seemed to catch himself, and put noticeable effort into controlling his volume more. “I’m excited.” He said, sheepish.

 

Michael nodded and opened the equipment room door, holding it open for him. Jason darted inside and looked around awestruck. The kid must really love hockey. It was cute.

 

“Alright, there’s a lot of things you’re gonna have to wear.” Michael began, moving around the room to collect the various types of padding in as close to Jason’s size as he could find. He doesn’t know what any of these things are called, but he likes to call the giant foam arm pads ‘mittens’ and the foam leg-protectors ‘unsexy thigh-highs’. He doesn’t want to ruin Jason’s fun though, so he hands them over silently. Next was the puffy goalie shirt, which Michael unfortunately could not find in Jason’s size, so it’ll be slightly small and will likely chafe. The behemoth of a boy couldn’t care less, and grabbed the gear from him with no complaint. “Last is the helmet--”

 

“Michael.” Jason cut him off, clearly antsy to try on the gear piling up in his arms. “Can you turn around?”

 

“What, don’t me to take a peek at your undies?” Michael teased.

 

“I don’t have to take off my pants for this.” He responded, confused. When Michael made no move to turn around, he made a gesture with his hands to remind him. With a huff Michael did as he was told.

 

Jason didn’t have to remove any of his clothes for this, really. It just felt awkward to get dressed in any context in front of a single classmate. Especially Michael, he’s noticed that the boy has a staring problem. Not to imply anything about him, of course. The large boy suddenly had the impulse to check behind him. A quick peek, and sure enough, there were Michael’s pitch black watchful eyes. Looking at him. At least he had the decency to look embarrassed about being caught.

 

He distantly registered that his shirt was too tight, but was too giddy with excitement once the final padded article was fastened. Jason geared himself up to run out the door, before Michael silently tapped a helmet against his chest.

 

“Those kids can be brutal, it’s not wise to go out there without head protection.”

 

Jason grumbled and fussed with his bag for a bit, trying to force it into the field hockey helmet in a way that wont cut off his vision. Michael took note that his head did not seem to fit into the standard helmet. Eventually he gave up, set the helmet down with a huff, and turned to route through the school supplies for protective gear that will cover his face. He settled on an old school face-hugging hockey mask. He glared and Michael got the hint to turn around.

 

Of course, Michael was a naturally curious boy, and turned to face him the second Jason was no longer looking. Slowly, the bag was untied and lifted. Michael saw the base of jason’s thick neck first, and then a head of red hair, cut closely to the scalp and slightly patchy. The bag came completely off and michael was intrigued by the odd shape of Jason’s skull. On the right it was normal looking, but on the left it was lumpy and misshapen, sort of like a flesh-toned boulder. With quiet feet Michael advanced around Jason’s left side, getting a glimpse of how the deformity spread onto his face. It was as bulbous as the rest of his head, and almost appeared to be melting like some wax figure gone horribly wrong. His mouth drooped and exposed crooked teeth and his left eye lay close in level to his nose, downward facing and seemingly unseeing. His nose was crooked and unusually wide, and Michael could not see much beyond that point. Suddenly the mask was on and Jason was staring at him through the dark eye holes of his new face, accusing and furious in that quiet way of his. Betrayal was also present in his baby blue eye.

 

Michael was suddenly aware of how fast his heart was beating, and how badly he wanted to remove that stupid mask and see what the rest of Jason looked like. He coughed and apologized sheepishly, grinning at Jason in a way that might be a bit too enthusiastic for the situation at hand. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”

 

In a half-assed attempt to distract him, he gestured towards the door. Jason stood rooted in place, staring at Michael unsurely like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. Michael supposed he was worried that he would ditch him or tell their classmates what his face looked like.  

 

“Hey, I can’t judge. Momma’s a stripper, remember?” He attempted, Jason only cringed. “Really, I don’t care what your face looks like. Not gonna stop bugging you in class or anything. You’re stuck with me.”

 

Jason still looked upset, but decided to take his word for it. He really wanted to play hockey, and time was passing fast. Michael potentially hating him for being ugly could wait. He walked out the door and onto the field, moving into the empty space by the goal. Michael took his own spot midfield. Somewhere in the distance someone screeched “What took ya so long? Did Mikey give ya a blowie or somethin’?” immediately followed by the thump of a punch and a yelp and a warning shout from the coach.

 

Coach Brahms began his countdown to the start of the match, and Jason located Michael in the crowd of students. The shorter boy gave him a discreet thumbs up, and Jason’s heart skipped a beat. He returned the gesture.

 

“--2… 1… Play ball!” The whistle blew, and the sound of clothes ruffling and stomping feet grew to an almost deafening level. Soon enough, a ball was flung in Jason’s direction. He surprised himself and blocked it easily, moving efficiently and quickly to stop it as if he’d done this every day of his life. Unsurprisingly it didn’t stop there, and he defended his post like a hardened soldier. A player would repeatedly attempt to get the puck into the goal, and he would repeatedly dive and fling it back out. His teammates would get ahold of it and throw appreciative looks in his direction. He felt fantastic, useful.

 

From then on the game was an incredibly easy win, plain and simple. The opposing team fought their hardest, but their hardest could only do so much when they were unable to score. The ball was blocked every time without fail, and Jason showed impressive reaction speed and reflexes. He was able to carry his team without even stepping on field.

 

The game ended faster than Jason would have liked, but he didn’t care. His heart was pumping, and he felt high on the adrenaline of a good game. Hunting never gave him this fulfilling a feeling. His chest ached as he left his post to discard his gear. He was stopped before he could enter the locker room by Coach Brahms.

 

The man clapped a hand on his shoulder and looked appreciatively up at the skyscraper of a student. “You’ve got a real future in this sport, son. You really ought to convince your mom to let you play.”

 

“I-I really don’t think--” Jason muttered.

 

“You could even get a sports scholarship, get into a good school. I know you try hard boy, but your grades just don’t cut it. You’ll get stuck at a local community college at this rate…”

 

Jason stepped back, brushed off his teacher’s hand. “That’s okay, I’m not gonna go to college. Ma needs me.” He tried to ignore the sting of disappointment in his heart. He loved his momma, she wanted him to stay her boy forever. It was selfish of him to try to get away.

 

“Alright son, but remember you’re always welcome on my team.” The coach patted his shoulder and moved out of his way.

 

Change was scary, frightening. Jason knew it was better this way.

 

\------

 

The next four class periods were hard for Michael. He tried to get the image of Jason’s face out of his head, tried to bite down the urge to seek him out and catch a glimpse of the rest of it. He couldn’t handle being left in the dark, he just couldn’t. The curiosity would eat him alive. The two hours of detention after school dragged on at a snail’s pace, and for once he couldn’t wait to get home just so he could go to sleep and shut his mind up.

 

Agonizing hour after hour passed and finally he was free. He sprinted home, and snuck up into his room through the window. He doubted his mother was still in town, and didn’t care enough to check. All that mattered now was Jason and the secret he was keeping from him. How ironic it was that a boy as pure and good as Jason would have the face of a monster. It was like something straight out of the twilight zone, like something he’d see in his nightmares come real. It felt so much more horrific now what those boys accused him of doing with Jason, like he’d be attracted to such a monster. It’d be like imagining Bell making love to the Beast.

 

He flopped into bed, pulling the covers over himself and folding himself into a fetal position. Strangely, something about the idea was disgustingly alluring. Surely he would look beautiful in contrast to Jason’s lumpy and hideous form, like he was a god blessing some pitiful eldritch horror with his presence. His smooth and flawless body juxtaposed with Jason’s brute and brawn. His perfectly sculpted face contrasted by Jason’s sorry excuse for facial features. Strangely, arousal grows in the pit of Michael’s stomach.

 

They were like yin and yang, opposites of each other. Jason was ugly with a heart of gold, and Michael was beautiful with a rotten and sickening soul. It was meant to be, written in the book of life that some nameless god had planned out since the beginning of time.

  
  
  



End file.
